Ten Years From Now
by kisssanitygoodbye
Summary: A brief glimpse into the future, or at least what I hope the future looks like. Anders-centric


A big Thank You goes to my beta wade bram wilson. :)

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Anders rubs his aching back, drawing himself up to his full height again. He'd never thought of himself as a man who could find fulfilment in manual labour, but it turns out life in the countryside suits him just fine. It reminds him of his childhood, filled with memories of his mother, all loving smiles and smothering affection, and his father, tall and proud, and devoted in a way that Anders could never quite grasp. He'd believed in the Maker as a child, of course, he _still_ did, but his own interpretation of the Chant of Light had always outraged the Templars at Kinloch Hold.

A small smile tugs at his lips at the memory. It all seems so distant now, almost like another life, led by a completely different person.

Now, he's happy, _truly_ happy, without having to convince himself of it all the time. Its effortless now, this feeling of happiness, of contentment, flowing through his veins like his magic as if it's _meant_ to be there. And, he thinks, watching two elderly women at the well gossiping and sharing stories about their grandchildren, it probably is.

He's finally, _finally_ free; he has an old but charming cottage to call his own; he's allowed to work, to _really_ work with his hands and his back. He's not restricted to playing healer for an old, bad-tempered nobleman, and of course there's…

"-Daddy! He's done it again!" Bethany is furious; he notices it in the jittery movements of her body, the furrowed brow and the slightly shaking lower lip.

He looks over his daughter's head and sees Karl lounging against the barn, a mischievous grin on his face that reminds him so much of his younger self.

"What is it, honey?" He beckons Karl toward him, lining both children up beside one another. Anders fixes them both with his best 'parental' look, an expression that he is still very much perfecting. Marian is so much better at the whole authority-thing.

"Karl froze my hair again!" Bethany narrows her eyes at her older brother. Only now does Anders notice that his daughter's hair is indeed streaked with little flakes of ice.

He bites back a laugh, careful not to hurt Bethany's feelings, but he can't help the little smirk forming on his lips. Sometimes it really frightens him how much resemblance there is between him and his son, named after the one person in the circle who had actually cared for him. _Karl_, whose chances of living freely had been taken from with such brutality.

It still hurts. On cold, dark evenings, when Marian has already gone to bed and he's completely alone with thoughts of the past, mistakes and regret haunt him like ghosts.

Hawke – he still calls her that sometimes – has ghosts of her own. Thoughts about her father, her mother, and her little sister plague her still, each of them taken from her by forces beyond her control. Those are the thoughts that make her wake with a muffled scream in the night, shaking and clutching his body to hers. Carver still visits, but it is not enough to dampen the sting of having lost so much.

On some days she still blames herself for their deaths. Those are the days she spends sitting on the bench in front of their cottage, staring into nothingness. He has to snap his fingers in front of her face so she will hear when he asks her to come inside, because it's getting cold and she has started to shiver without realising it again.

The only thing she could do was to let her sister's name live on in her daughter.

Picking names for their children had been the easiest thing they had ever done. Both names stand for mages who never truly tasted freedom, mages he - _they_ - had been fighting for.

"Apologise to your sister, Karl", Anders says softly, ruffling Bethany's hair to free it of the last pieces of ice that haven't yet melted.

Karl does as he is told, and Anders calls forth small orbs of light and lets them touch his children's faces, making them both giggle.

"You're always having fun without me." Marian is standing at the door, a tiny kitten in her arms and a big smile on her face.

Just when Anders turns to answer, he hears the familiar clanking of armour that still manages to send chills down his spine.

The young Templar pauses on the road by their fence. He is wearing no helmet, and Anders can see the small smile on the man's face as he watches Karl and Bethany playing with the dancing orbs of light.

Karl throws one at the man, who touches it with a small laugh, watching it disappear in his hand.

The Templar nods warmly at them before he continues on, and the children wave him goodbye.

Anders can only stare in amazement. He still can't wrap his head around situations like these. Marian seems to notice his unease, walking up to him and taking his hand into her own.

"I still can't believe that they're not afraid of Templars", he whispers, thinking back on his time at the Circle, sitting in a tiny, cold cell with only a cat to keep him company.

Hawke brushes her lips against his cheek, "I know, love. But they have no reason to be afraid, do they?"


End file.
